Bane's Choice (Vampire Motorcycle Club #1) - Alyssa Day Page 0,81
didn’t feel like she should interrupt.
On the other hand, did “first, do no harm” include allowing a fellow human to be used as food?
Her mind flashed back to when Bane had bit her, in a far more sensitive location than her neck, and how it had felt, and she shivered.
Yeah.
Neither Meara nor the human woman would appreciate being interrupted right now, for sure.
A few minutes later, they were done. Meara murmured something to the woman, who shook out her cloud of red curls and walked over to Ryan.
“Hello! Welcome to Katrina’s. I’m Katrina, as you probably guessed. What lovely breasts you have! I think Christian Siriano or Zac Posen for her, don’t you, Meara?”
Ryan’s face instantly flamed with heat. “Um, thanks?”
Meara looked at Ryan with interest. “Ooh. Yes. In red. It has to be red, don’t you think? With that hair and skin, I think red.”
Ryan cleared her throat. “So, I can’t afford a designer gown. To be honest, I can’t afford a designer handbag. Or even a wallet. So, let’s just focus on your dress, Meara.”
The vampire picked up a slim, long, emerald-green sheath dress and held it up against her slim, long, Valkyrie-like body. “I think I need this, Kat. And yes, show her whatever you have in red. Add it to my bill, please.”
“Of course,” Kat cooed, just as Ryan said, “Oh, no, definitely not.”
Meara pointed at Kat. “Or maybe a sapphire silk? With her eyes? Low-cut bodice, for sure,” she said, ignoring Ryan completely.
Ryan took a deep breath and tried again. “Meara. I appreciate your generous offer, but—”
“No, you don’t.”
“I—what?” Nonplussed, she stared at the vampire. “What do you mean?”
Meara shrugged and handed a tiny beaded handbag to Kat. “This, too. And those emerald teardrop earrings.”
“Meara,” Ryan tried again.
“No. You don’t appreciate the offer, because you’re too damn proud. And you have some silly human idea of what’s yours is yours and what’s mine is mine, and whatever. I have enough money to buy Louisiana. I’m buying you this dress.”
Ryan blinked, feeling distinctly bulldozed. “Why would you want to buy Louisiana?”
“Have you ever eaten gumbo in New Orleans? That’s reason enough.”
Ryan shook her head and bowed to the will of Hurricane Meara. She could always return the dress later. She sank into a chair, accepted the glass of champagne Katrina handed her, and let the conversation flow over and around her.
Nothing about this adventure was anything that Reliable Ryan would ever do, in a million years, so she suddenly wanted to experience all of it.
“Bring it on,” she told the two women airily. “Cinderella had nothing on me.”
Meara grinned at her. “I’ve always wanted to be a fairy godmother, but my brother is definitely no Prince Charming.”
Ryan took a long sip of champagne. “More like Prince Arrogance, really. But damn, he’d look hot in a tux.”
“What a great idea!” Meara pulled her phone out of her pocket—the first time Ryan had seen any of the vampires use phones—and tapped out a text. “There! I told him he’s going with us tomorrow.”
Ryan, starting on her second glass of champagne, smiled. “Sounds great to me. Can he dance? He was secretly a European prince back in the day, right?”
Meara’s expression was priceless. “Prince? Prince of the stables, maybe. He worked for my father, with the horses.”
“So, no dancing,” Ryan mused, trying to fit this information into her mental file labeled Bane.
“Oh, he can dance. My father was a conte. I taught him to dance after we Turned.”
“You taught your father to dance?” Ryan picked out a pastry from a china tray Katrina offered her.
“No! Pay attention! I taught Bane to dance. He hates getting dressed up, but he will for you. And you’ll want to look beautiful for him.”
Ryan found she liked the idea of that. Very much. She smiled and drank champagne and tasted pastries, and then she tried on gowns that almost certainly cost as much as she made in a year.
Because why not? She was Unreliable Ryan these days and loving every minute of it, and she would very much love for Bane to see her as beautiful, too, even if only once.
An hour later, slightly drunk and entirely shocked at how many packages Katrina would be messengering over to them the next day, Ryan followed Meara back out the door and down to the street.
That’s when the shifters attacked.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bane leaned against the bar, and Luke and Edge took positions on either side of him. Nine of their best fighters—all vampires—sat at tables,